


What Is Dead May Never Die

by Carrot_Bunny



Series: MakoHaru Festival 2015 [26]
Category: Free!, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hunger Games Setting, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-11
Updated: 2015-03-11
Packaged: 2018-03-17 08:48:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3522986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Carrot_Bunny/pseuds/Carrot_Bunny
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I’ll be waiting for you.” Written for the Official Makoharu Festival 2015 - it's posted on their Tumblr page now!</p>
            </blockquote>





	What Is Dead May Never Die

He is calm and still on the couch, waiting for the next person to come in. His parents had already left after saying their goodbyes, and while of course he will miss them, there is one who he has to bid farewell to, before he leaves to face whatever is in store for him, although it will most likely end in his death.

The door opens, and he looks up to see a familiar figure escorted by a Peacekeeper.

“Makoto.”

“Haru-chan.”

He has stood up, ready to give his parting words, maybe assure him that he would do his best to come back, or even just protest the usage of the suffix after his name as he had done countless times before and probably never will have the chance to again. But before he can even open his mouth Makoto has wrapped his arms around him, pulling him so close he can hear his heartbeat as his head is pressed to his chest.

He does not move then, but closes his eyes as fingers run through his hair like they have done so many times in the past. When his chin is tilted up and lips are pressed to his, he does not hesitate to deepen the kiss himself. This is anything but the time to hold back; everything that happens now he knows he will store away in his memories like a precious treasure, to draw strength from in the days ahead.

They finally break apart, and he tries to speak again but never does. He’d already put everything he wanted to convey, every word he might never be able to say or would never say again, all of that into that kiss, and one looks into Makoto’s eyes tells him that he’d understood. So he leads him to the couch where they sit side by side, black hair resting against broad shoulders, their hands entwined in his lap.

“Where’s Ran and Ren?”

“My parents already took them home. I guess they were tired out from the ceremony.”

He knows the truth though; he’d heard their cries and sobs as he walked to the stage after his name was called. He’d hoped to see them before he had to leave; other than his parents and late grandmother, Makoto’s family was the only people he counted himself as being close to, introvert that he was. However, he does not want his last glimpse of the twins be of their teary faces, so it was as well he wouldn’t see them anyway.

“Here. Help me pass these to them.” He rummages in the pocket of his dress pants and pulled out two small wood carvings that fit snugly into his palm. They depicted identical bird figurines, with outstretched wings and bulging eyes. He’d been helping the siblings spring-clean when they stumbled across an old drawing of a seagull Makoto had made in preschool, and the twins had found their older brother’s crude art skills rather comical.

“When did you make them?”

“Just now, when I was waiting for the Peacekeepers to bring in my parents.”

“You sure work fast.”

“It wasn’t difficult. All I needed to do was make sure the eyes stuck out enough.” He smiles at the sound of Makoto’s laughter; who knows whether he’d ever hear it again.

“Hey, Makoto.”

“Yeah?”

“When I’ve left… promise me you’ll still laugh, okay? I never want you to forget how to laugh.”

Makoto’s smile falls, and he is silent for a while. Then he looks up again. “I promise. Because I want to be there when you come back, so the first thing you hear when you step off the train from the Capitol is my laugh.”

‘Makoto, I can’t - ”

“You can. You’ve got as good a chance as any Career tribute in there. You’re strong, and your hands are really skillful, and you can easily get food for yourself.”

“I can fish. You’re hoping they’ll have nothing but mackerel in the arena? Fat chance.”

Makoto chuckles. “That would be an advantage. I honestly do think you can come back though – I mean, I don’t want to put any pressure on you, but,” he grips his lover’s hands tightly, “I refuse to think this is the last time we’ll see each other.”

He pauses for a while, then reaches into his pocket. “Remember this?” He holds out his palm.

“It’s the earring you found that day on the beach.” Makoto had picked up the solitary earring one evening when walking along the water’s edge with him.

“Here.” The hair on the left of his head was parted to reveal his ear, and the earring was gingerly attached to the tiny hole pierced into the lobe. “For luck.”

“Luck?”

“Yeah. Tributes are allowed to take something from home into the arena, right? So if you don’t mind, I’d like you to have this as your district token.”

He reaches up a hand to feel the bump of the red jewel in the earring against the smooth skin of his earlobe. “I will. I mean, I’ll wear it in the Games… and I’ll come home.” He had resigned himself to his fate of possible death, but now he has a reason to try and win these Games. He can’t disappoint Makoto.

The door opens and a Peacekeeper strides in just as they part from another kiss. It is time for Makoto to leave, but not before squeezing his hand one last time. “I’ll be waiting for you.” Then the door closes and he is gone.

…

He sits up in bed abruptly, and his eyes find the door on the opposite wall from his bed, next to the dresser. In no way does it resemble the door of the room in the Justice Building, yet if he tries hard enough, he can imagine that it has just closed and he can still walk over to it, throw it open and call Makoto’s name, and Makoto will turn around and crinkle his eyes as he smiles in response.

 _I’ll be waiting for you._  “That’s what you said. You promised the first thing I’d hear when I step off the train would be your laugh,” he says aloud in the silence of a new morning.

After the dark days he’d spent in the arena, with ghastly memories that still haunt him and cause him to wake up screaming in the dead of night, the first time he truly smiled after being declared victor was when they played the recap of the Games and they got to the part where the final eight tributes’ families and friends are interviewed. He saw Makoto’s beaming face as he told the reporter how the district had started a fund to sponsor him in the Games, heard Makoto’s light laugh when she remarks on the little posse of kids hanging about him as he talked, and the corners of his lips gradually lifted, slowly as if they were struggling to remember the action from a lifetime ago.

Then they’re down to the final two tributes, and the reporter returns to District 4 to catch everyone’s reactions to the possibility of having another victor from their district, only to find out that the handsome young fisherman with the bright green eyes was lost at sea in a fierce storm just two days ago. At the time the footage was taken, his boat had washed up on the beach, but the body hadn’t been recovered yet.

That was when all of Panem watched in shock as the latest winner of the Games fainted in his seat, his unconscious form slumping against the backrest.

When he woke up days later, he was back in the bed with the sterile white sheets in which he found himself the first time he opened his eyes after collapsing in the hovercraft that was taking him out of the arena. His victor’s crown was delivered to his hospital room two days later. Presumably it is still lying broken in the corner where he’d thrown it.

 _Knock knock._  “Sir, are you awake?”

He snaps out of his reverie. “Yes. Come in, May.” He gets out of bed as a stout homely-looking woman opens the door.

“What is it?”

“Miss Seaworth is here to see you.”

He raises an eyebrow. He would see Mags at the training centre later; why would she come to his house herself now? “Show her to the sitting room and tell her I’ll be down in a few minutes.”

When he came downstairs later, Mags was chatting with May as the latter poured her a mug of milk. They were both from the same neighbourhood, and after the shipwreck that claimed the lives of May’s husband as well as half his fishing crew she’d suggested he take her on as a domestic help. Thanks to the wages she earned working for him, her four children did not want for anything and were doing well both in school and in training.

“Ah, Sir has come down. I’ll leave you two to your business then.”

“Thank you, May.” He sat himself in an armchair and waited as Mags finished the mug.

“Nothing like a good mug of milk in the morning – there’s never enough of it in this fish-stinking place,” she declared in her strong fisherfolk accent as she set the mug down. “But of course I didn’t come here merely to take advantage of your hospitality.”

“Of course not.” Mays was the oldest victor in the district and commanded a high degree of respect in the community, as well as being something of a legendary figure to the children who came for training. She was strict and took no nonsense when coaching though, but also got along easily with her students and was a beloved mentor. She’d taken him under her wing during the days leading up to his Games, and had been a source of strength after he was crowned victor and his world came falling apart.

Now she leaned forward and rested her hands on her thighs. “I just heard the weather report on the radio. There’s to be really foul weather this evening. SA real maelstrom, the announcer calls it, and while I know the old coot’s always had a flair for dramatics I don’t think he’s too far off the mark this time. The whole district is advised to stay indoors.”

“I see. We’ll have to end training earlier today so the students can get home safely then.”

“I don’t need you to tell me that. I only came to make sure you know about the storm so you won’t go sailing out into danger.”

He tenses. “Mags, I can’t - ”

“You can.” The exchange sends a cold shiver down his spine as a memory was triggered, but Mags is oblivious to the change in his facial expression. “Either you don’t go, or if you absolutely insist, you take the day off and go out in the afternoon so you’ll be back before it strikes.”

“But today’s when we make the final decision for this year’s volunteers. I  _have_  to be there.”

“Then be there. And go straight home afterwards. I’ll have May lock all the doors and windows if I have to.” Mags lets out a deep breath. “Every year I tell you this, and every year you go anyway. This time though, you  _have_ to listen to me for once. Let go of the past. Don’t go out there today. It’s not worth it risking your life for somebody that’s already gone.”

“He’s not gone.” The words fall out of his mouth involuntarily. “I risked everything in the arena just so I could come back to him, and I’ll never stop believing I’ll find him someday. I know he’s out there, still waiting for me.”

She sighs. “It’s that earring, isn’t it? The one you came across in that junk shop, which you claimed was the twin to your own.”

He smiles faintly as he touches the front pocket on the left of his shirt, right over his heart. “He gave me my lucky charm. It’s only right that I give him his.” The smile turns sad. “After the ceremony… it was like the world had disappeared under my feet and I was freefalling. I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for you. I would’ve been so broken I would never pick myself up again.”

“But you did. Those kids in the interview, they were inspired by you in the Games, and wanted to learn how to fend for themselves in case they got reaped. You showed them that surviving in the arena isn’t just pure luck for people like us, that it was possible to try their best and actually come home, and he wanted to encourage that. When you learned he’d been teaching them basic survival skills and how to handle things like knives and spears that could be used in self-defense, you took on the task yourself and changed the entire district. Now we don’t send helpless twelve-year-olds to die in the arena. We prepare our children the best we can so they can live and return home.”

“Not all of them do though.” He stands up and walks to the window, gazing out at the bay sprawling before him. “As if trying to survive the Games wasn’t bad enough, having to send two children in every year, knowing that at the most only one would survive…” He lets out a sigh. “I’ve lasted so long, and I’ll do anything I can to keep what we’ve done going, but now… now it seems I can finally shed my burden. It won’t be fair to you and the other victors, having to go on without me, but I believe I’ve left everything in good hands. It’s about time I went to him.”

When he turns around, Mags is walking towards him. She lays a hand on his shoulder. “You’re already set on going, aren’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Then go. Heaven knows how much you’ve suffered for so long, perhaps more than the rest of us who lived through our Games. We all don’t have anyone left to love, yet you still hold on to yours as tightly as the day you left him. Go and be with him.”

He wraps his arms around her and hugs her tightly. “Thank you.”

…

The weather announcer told it true; it was indeed a fierce rage of a storm. His boat stubbornly refused to be overturned however, bobbing up and down on the tumultuous waves as he steers towards the eye of the storm.

He is not sure what he is looking for, what he might find that would be different from what he sees the day the train from the Capitol pulls into the station and he steps out to a hollow feeling that invades his heart and can never be filled. That afternoon he dodged the reporters and cameramen and sailed out to sea, shouting Makoto’s name until the sun went down and he had no more tears left in him. He has done the same every year on the anniversary of his return to the district, and every time he would come back from sea to another year of painful loneliness.

Not today though. He may not know what it is, but he knows he would recognize it when it emerges to free him. So when the behemoth of a tidal wave comes rushing towards him, he meets it with open arms.

It is strangely calm in the water, a stark contrast to the chaos on the surface. He feels all the years of pain and suffering leach out from him, carried away by the current. Vaguely, he realizes that both the earring on his left ear and the one in his front pocket are missing.

He doesn’t mind. He knows they have ended up together, deep in the heart of the ocean.

“Haru-chan,” comes the voice, clear as day. He sees green eyes, a warm smile, a hand outstretched to him. A light crisp laugh finally rings in his ear, just like he was promised.  _Okaeri_ , it seems to say.  _Welcome back._

He accepts the hand without hesitation. “Tadaima,” he whispers as he is pulled towards the white light overhead.  _I’m home._

**Author's Note:**

> Notice how the red earring Makoto gives Haruka as a token is worn on the left? Yeah, I did that on purpose, because I dunno whether District 4 would have hibiscus blooms. Come to think of it, Suzanne Collins never mentioned what happened to Hawaii when America became Panem, did she?
> 
> Also, Mags' surname is another GoT nod because Davos will always hold a special place in my heart, the poor thing.


End file.
